


The Memory Room

by EmilyoftheDrums



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:10:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyoftheDrums/pseuds/EmilyoftheDrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short story about what happens when the Master wanders into the room where the Doctor keeps all his old stuff. You'll see....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Memory Room

The Master was always getting lost in the TARDIS. Although he didn't call it lost. He called it 'being temporarily sidetracked by corridors' because honestly, getting lost in a ship, even a trans-dimensional time ship, was still pretty embarrassing for him. 

And it just so happened that this one time, as he was frustratedly wandering around cursing the corridors, he came across a door. 

This door was different to other doors. This door was old and wooden and grand. The Master had never seen a door like this on board the TARDIS. The Doctor preferred a modern look. Curiosity piqued, he pushed it open. 

He caught his breath at he beauty of the room. It swept outwards on either side of the door, hundreds of dusty, polished wooden shelves lining the stone walls. Every inch of every shelf was filled with items. 

The less dusty shelves near the front contained only a few items. A blue folder containing photos of what looked like garden statues of angels, a crystal ball that seemed to be emitting a muffled screaming , and an item the Master recognised well. His own laser screwdriver, confiscated when the Doctor had taken him prisoner after the Year That Never Was. He brushed his hand fondly over it, pointedly ignoring the strong temptation to swipe it up and slip it in his pocket. 

He wandered through the shelves, examining the items on display. One shelf was full of clothes. A neatly folded worn leather jacket lay next to a girls sweatshirt that had been handled recently. Interestingly, the Master noted, the sweatshirt smelled faintly salty, like tears. 

Moving further back, he wandered through racks of old clothes, laughing scornfully at the ridiculous clown outfit of the Doctor's sixth incarnation and smiling nostalgically at the fancy frills of the third's costume. The scarf of his fourth body lay draped over the corner of a shelf. He felt a small twinge of guilt, remembering his part in the fourth one's death. So many memories.. The Master refused to let himself become emotional. 

He passed shelves of Dalek eye stalks, rows of Cyberman heads and boxes of strange alien trinkets from a thousand different worlds. One crate was full of glowing gemstones, while another stuffed with what appeared to be dead beetles. Such a mixture of treasure and trash the Master had never seen before. 

At the very back of the room was another door. This one was smaller but the handle was free of dust, suggesting the Doctor went here frequently. The Master pushed it, hearing the old lock click open wearily. 

Inside the room was a single wooden chair and a crate. Both items were worn out and free of dust. Sitting down, the Master studied the crate. It was old, very old, and of Gallifreyan design. He gently pushed the lid off, gazing at the contents below. 

There was a stack of Time Lord photographs, showing a young Doctor, back when he was known as Theta Sigma. His messy blond hair and green eyes made him look so happy and free. He had been, back then. Next to Theta was a boy with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes, grinning at the camera with an inquisitive look in his eyes. That, the Master remembered sadly, had been him once. When he was still Koschei, young and carefree and barely bothered by the constant drumbeat that still remained lodged in his mind. The picture had been taken when they were mere teenagers, so eager and foolish and mad. 

A tear formed in the Master's eye. Just the dust, he told himself. It's a reaction to the dust. Then he remembered this room had no dust and stopped lying to himself, quietly letting the tears fall and silently glad that the Doctor wasn't behind him right now.

Of course, the Doctor was behind him. And as he saw Koschei crying, because in that moment he was Koschei and not the Master, he slowly turned and walked out of the past, not looking back despite the lump in his throat and the stinging in his young, old eyes.


End file.
